


-Vonnegut Anon

by OhBelieveYouMe



Series: Thanks, Tumblr [3]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Romance, Vonnegut, book lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:45:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhBelieveYouMe/pseuds/OhBelieveYouMe
Summary: Anonymous asked:hi!! first of all i want to say i've been following you on ao3 and fucking love that you're on tumblr too now; your writing is so so incredible and beautiful and compelling! second, i'd love to submit a request -- could you write something about barba getting into a relationship with a woman based in part on mutual love of reading, especially vonnegut? thank you again for all your writing!! <3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _oh goodness me, can I start by saying how you are the perfect, most sweetest angel that ever did sing my way?! Thank you SO MUCH for your compliments, it really means the world- comments like these are exactly why I even care to keep writing. <3\. _  
> And now, on to Vonnegut! Thank you for letting me write this for you!

Vs. V, V, V; you could never find that book when you wanted to, you know? Most of the time, when Rafael wandered through the library, he randomly stumbled upon something interesting and was rarely disappointed. Reading was easy, a gateway to others’ intelligence- it was a reprieve from having to be the one to conjure and think all the time. He loved it.

Vs! Finally! He smiled as he curved around the corner, convinced his success would be hiding in the shelves- but unfortunately, he wasn’t alone. A woman in red was meticulously studying the spines; he didn’t dare breathe or speak a word, lest he distract her studious search. Instead, he watched. Watched carefully as she ran a delicate fingertip along the edges of engraved words, as she gingerly slid a metal divider alongside a book before removing it so she could meticulously study the cover, as her eyebrows bounced in interest before taking a peek inside the pages.

“That’s a good one,” He was speaking before he even realized he had something to say- but he knew that one. The intrusion made her jump, and she accidentally dropped the book to the floor as she turned curiously towards him. Oops.

Once she regained composure, she bent politely at the knees to retrieve the fallen literature. “Oh is it?” She asked brightly, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Worth the read?”

“Aren’t all of his books?” Barba had been bending too, ready to pick the book up since he had been the reason it fell. She beat him too it, and was already standing tall before he rose once more. “Of all of them, though,” he lightly tapped at the title across the front of the book, “It’s up there with one of my favorites.”

“A Vonnegut Fanatic?” The mystery woman giggled, and he thought he could hear angels crooning in the chorus. “I’ve only dabbled really, but I love what I’ve read. Hadn’t made it to this one yet, though, I’ve been distracted by another author. I mean, he’s kind of a classic and I should have read them back in high school, likely.” Her head bobbed sadly as she glanced at his face, and Rafael mimicked her nodding while biting back a smile.

Her champagne pop voice continued; “But it takes me forever to get through a book, I’m always too distracted and I have to look things up, do you ever do that?” He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, she fluttered her fingertips near his face. The interruption didn’t bother him, if it meant she’d keep talking. “Of course you don’t, you’re probably much smarter than me, I just can barely focus. But when you read certain things you just wanna dig right in,” her fists clenched as she hugged the book to her chest, emphasis he assumed. “I need the backstories for allegories and references for references made, and-” She flinched, and nervously bit onto her bottom lip before finally looking into his green, attentive eyes. “Sorry,” she wilted and he wanted to chastise himself for whatever he did to make her apologize. “I’m rambling.”

She could ramble all day and he’d only want to hear more. “No, who?” They were speaking just above a whisper, how else would you talk to someone in a library? Rafael shamelessly slid closer so he could hear her better. “Who were you distracted by?”

“Don’t laugh, but I’ve been reading Homer. That’s silly, isn’t it?” He didn’t quite see what was so silly, but her nose crunched when she suggested it, and he could only chuckle. “Kids in English class read Homer, but I hopped right on that train after I finished tearing apart ‘Speak, Memory’ by Nobokov.” To symbolize her hop, she rocked from her heels to her toes; Rafael’s attention was caught by the light reflecting from a buckle on her shoes. “But I sincerely and seriously loved Slaughterhouse-Five, it really was a fascinating read, the way he writes makes you read the words as if you’re still muddling through a broken puzzle. I figured I needed to try another Vonnegut.”

Usually, he was the one who wouldn’t stop talking. Be it opinions, quips, or pretty much anything. “I know what you mean, the indulgence of fiction and non is as much confusing as it is entrancing.” It was refreshing to just have a chance to listen, and he was convinced he could listen to her talk all day. “I wouldn’t laugh at that,” Rafael reassured her, “and I don’t think it’s silly. Especially if you ‘dig in’-” he made air quotes on either side of her face, making her giggle. He’d have to remember to do that again, “like you say. After all; ‘What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments’-”

“- 'Seen all at one time’.” The way she beamed up at him after completing the quote made his knees tremble. Was it her pink lips or her mind that had him so entranced?

“My name’s Rafael,” He finally introduced himself, and held out a hand. She took it in her own, and shook vigorously. Timidness must not be in her vocabulary. “Rafael Barba.”

“Marie,” She chirped, and he said it twenty times over in his mind. “Marie Reed.” Her eyebrow perked, and she curiously narrowed her stare. “Rafael Barba, I’ve read about you in the paper. You’re an ADA, or am I mistaken?”

“Is there anything you won’t read?” He didn’t want to talk about himself, he was much more interested in Miss Marie, but he did give a nod to confirm her suspicion. “And don’t judge me by what you’ve seen; I swear I’m much nicer and polite in person.” He sassily shrugged, “and they started it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” She used the book she held, The Sirens of Titan, and tapped at his chest just over his tie. “Thanks for the book suggestion, Mr. Barba. Good luck finding your next 'marvelous moment’. Luckily, these walls are full of them.” Marie used open hands to motion to the library itself, but Rafael was certain he had found that moment already. Unfortunately, she had turned, and was apparently making her way to check out.

“I’d love to hear what you think about the book,” he stumbled over his words while carefully following her from a few steps behind. Convinced he couldn’t let her get away, he even quickened his pace so he’d wind up in front of her. He’d have to go looking again for the damn Vs but it would hopefully be worth it. “Or anything, really, I’d love to just hear what you think in general-” Once he was in front of her, blocking her path, she froze in place.

“Really?” Marie’s face skewed, and it looked as if he had recited a conundrum instead of a compliment. In fact, it was so unexpected; he frowned when he noticed it. Why was she so confused?

“Of course,” Rafael was at least proud he had convinced her to stop walking away from him. “I find you quite interesting, maybe dinner sometime? Soon?”

A hot blush rose to her cheeks, and she modestly broke their stare to glance down at her shoes. “I’m really not all that interesting,” she began condescendingly, and he thought his heart would sink. If she wanted to say 'no’, she could have just done so instead of going through this self-deprecation. “But sure,” she smiled cheekily when her eyes finally fell back on his. “Yea, dinner would be nice. Maybe you can give me some insight on anything I don’t understand.”

Rafael’s turn to smile, he thought his cheeks would hurt if he grinned like that much longer. “I’m sure you’ll be the one providing the insight,” He bit his lip and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, trying to mentally consider his calendar for the next week. “What about Sunday night? Seven?”

Marie nodded, and made a funny little squeak of a noise that must have been intended as an 'mhmm’. He pulled out a business card, and searched diligently for a pen. Thankfully there were a few kids studying at a nearby table, he unblushingly snatched their writing utensil while the boy was mid-word. “Can I get your number?” He held them both out towards her, ignoring the protests that came his way from the kids.

She giggled, he wished he could make her laugh like that forever, and handed over the book she held so she could obediently jot down the seven digits. “I’m usually up pretty late, I’m a night owl,” Marie admitted while making the switch, her book for his card. “So you can call anytime.”

Rafael haphazardly tossed the pen back to the complainers, and pocketed the card with her number. “Oh trust me, I will. It was great meeting you, Marie.” He had more to say, or at least he would have, if it hadn’t been for his phone going off in the middle of the otherwise hushed library. Embarrassed, he quickly went to mute it, but flinched when he saw Benson’s number on the screen. “Unfortunately, though, I have to run… I’ll talk to you soon.”

Marie nodded slowly, in understanding, and left him with a final remark before taking her own leave. “And so it goes…” Her fingers waggled a wave in the air, but she didn’t look back at him. He’d accept it.

Rafael watched her stride away, a slight skip in her step, and it took every ounce of restraint he had not to follow after her. Between her saccharine giggles and her overflowing tongue, all he knew was that he needed to see her again. Whether it be about every word in that book cover to cover, or about anything at all really. He was drawn to Marie like a moth to a flame. Hopefully he wouldn’t get burned. And so it goes, indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pt2, per requests and a neeeeed for it haha. Hope you enjoy!  
> Tumblr Link: [Vonnegut Fanatic, pt 2](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/152872453107/vonnegut-fanatic-pt-2)

****He wasn’t sure why he was nervous. Rafael Barba was rarely nervous, or at least- he was rarely visibly nervous. Yet here he was, trembling before knocking on her door. They had made plans to go out for dinner and drinks; she made him promise to bring another work of Vonnegut's for her to borrow, after he teased her for only having read a couple of the books that had brought them together in the first place. Who was he to deny her?

“Come in," He heard her voice through the wooden door, "I’m sorry!” His brows furrowed at the apology, he hadn’t even gotten in yet and she had to say 'sorry’? Rafael hesitated, before opening the door and letting himself into the entryway. Concern trickled down his spine- she didn’t use the locks?

“You’re fine,” He confirmed loudly, while cautiously closing the door leading out.

“I’ll be there in a moment, I’m so sorry- I’m so scatterbrained,” He could hear her from down the narrow hallway, her voice carried like a summer breeze. “I lost track of time, I’ll be there in just a moment.” He'd wait a million moments if it meant he'd finally see her again.

“Please, don’t rush,” Rafael insisted politely before nosily meandering into the living room. It was a modest dwelling, but well kept, and she had fresh cut flowers in an ivory vase on the coffee table. A few rugs on the floors, and a living room that he assumed took up most of the square feet. Vaulted ceilings, picture frame walls, and a conundrum; why on Earth did she ever bother going to the library?

Two obnoxiously large –and overfilled- bookshelves flanked either side of a large velvet loveseat, which was against the farthest wall in the middle of the room. A blanket that looked as if it were made of the softest material he had ever seen was bunched lazily on one end, and a large pillow was propped on the other. A few feet away was a coffee table- thin, long, and made of glass and dark wood. Shelves and shadowboxes, all filled with what looked like ticket stubs and Playbills, lined the walls. A number of unframed pictures painted by either abstract artists he couldn’t recognize or amateurs accompanied the otherwise sophisticated décor. One particularly interesting aspect was quickly noted- there was a record player and a large stereo off in the corner, but no television.

He heard her before he saw her, the familiar click-clack-clatter of stiletto heels on parquet floors. She was fiddling with an earring, and smiling ear to ear while she clipped the back together. “Oh, you look so handsome,” She cooed politely, and flipped her blonde curls behind her shoulders. Hell of a 'Hello'. He couldn't tell if she was always so complimentary or if she just really didn't have a filter, but anything those crimson painted lips said had his attention. “It’s good to see you again, Rafael.”

“You’re lovely as well,” Rafael responded just as boldly, and went to change the subject off of appearances by motioning to a collage of crumbled rainbow papers decorating the wall. "I see you have an artist in the family?"

Marie giggled, and nodded rapidly. "Oh yes, my children made those- I have them listen to music and paint what they see," she trotted over and used gameshow arm movements to display the beautifully random art. She appeared so proud of them. "It's fascinating, really."

That definitely left more questions than answers. Children? The apartment was impeccable. Perhaps Rafael didn't have any kids of his own, but he had been to a couple apartments where they lived. Usually the floors were littered with toys and everything nice was kept over three feet from the ground. He was suddenly concerned about the lack of seating, where would they paint? "How many do you have?”

Her answer was swift: "25!" She beamed at him while going to get her jacket, blissfully unaware of his bewilderment until she went back to his side. His wide eyes must have admitted the need for clarification. He opened his mouth to ask for himself, but her voice interrupted- "Oh dear, no! Oh no, I teach." Marie nodded eagerly and smiled once more when she saw the confusion fade from his features. "I'm sorry, no, I teach. Kindergarten."

"That must be fascinating," he admitted, "So you have them paint music?" The idea was foreign, and he couldn't quite seem to understand it. "How do you visually express what you hear?"

She shrugged, and ran a fingertip along a few dramatic brush strokes. "That's the best thing about kids," Marie went to the lights and flipped them off, leaving only the illumination of the city flooding in through the windows. Her dress sparkled, and he thought the revelation of her occupation helped her attitude make a bit more sense. "They see what adults can't. Or, what we won’t."

Rafael couldn't help himself, he turned back to gaze seriously at the collage despite her leading the way back to the door. He found himself wondering what song she played, how those little hands picked purple or green depending on the tune. He thought of asking, but his attention and thoughts were torn when he felt a gentle tug at his sleeve- she had caught him by the cufflinks between two fingers.

"You ready?" She asked, quietly, as if the dim lighting demanded hushed voices. He nodded, deciding he could ask about her students and their apparent artistic abilities later. He had never been in a rush, but he’d go wherever she led him.

\---

Like a child expecting a gift from a traveling relative, Marie had hesitated before asking about the book. Even waited until the second drink to bring it up, despite how they had been discussing her latest read from the library already. To be honest, he purposely hadn't mentioned it, even though it had been in an internal pocket of his coat the whole time. Rafael wanted to see how long she could hold off; her polite sensibilities drove him wild. Was that sadistic?

"Oh yea," he feigned surprise and diligently wiped at his fingers with a napkin. Pulling the literature out into view, he lifted it over their glasses of wine, and she preciously took it out of his one hand with both of hers. The way she ran her fingertips over the title, more carefully than the blind heeding a warning in braille- he wondered if she touched everything with the same delicate reverence. Her raucous giggling confirmed what he had hoped- she at least found the title amusing.

"God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian," she snorted lightly after the recitation, and he could have fell over in his chair in consideration of how cute it was. He hadn't told her anything about his choice other than that it was by Vonnegut, so her only real amusement could have been drawn from the few most prominent words on the cover. "This man is ridiculous, I love it-" she spoke as if she knew him personally, had indulged in a conversation the other afternoon over tea. Her apparent familiarity was dreamy. "Do you like this one?"

Rafael nodded, "Of course, the technique is interesting though-" he took a sip of his drink and convinced himself to continue on as her eyes scanned the text written on the back cover.

Oddly enough, she flipped through the pages, skimming nearly each one before placing the book on the table again. What had she been looking for? Marie rest her palm atop it, as if she were swearing on the stand, and she graced him with a lovely smirk. "Thank you, Rafael, I'll be sure to get it back to you soon."

"No rush," he shook his head, "between all the rest in your collection and teaching, I'm sure you're busy."

Her shoulders shrugged, and she went to tapping at her wine glass stem with her nails. "Everyone's busy, though," her brows furrowed seriously as she took a drink, he loved how she thought while she spoke. "You just gotta know what's worth making time for. Reading wins for me."

"I'd imagine; your bookshelf seemed quite full. Maybe sometime you'll have to let me borrow something…"

\---

Normally, he wouldn't follow a young lady back inside her apartment after the first date; but Marie had vehemently insisted. "Just a moment, I promise," she wouldn't even look at him as she begged, but he allowed himself to be drug along by her invisible hold on him. Her fingers may not be tangled in his, but he felt no less obliged to give her what she wanted. "I'm a lady, I promise;" most ladies didn't have to bring it up, but he had not been questioning it, "I'd just feel awful if you handed off a book without borrowing one as well." She nodded seriously, blonde curls falling into her face as she did, "I bet it's bad luck. I've never heard that it was, but I bet it's bad luck." He hadn’t heard of the omen either, but he loved seeing her clutch his book to her chest as if it were the most valuable thing in the world.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, pulling the invisible thread taught, and he obediently slid up alongside her while she fidgeted with the keys. The way she spoke of books, as if each one was a cove of treasure instead of words on paper, it was intriguing. While he did love reading, Rafael had never been so excited about something that felt so menial- borrowing a book.

But suddenly, he **needed** to borrow a book. Her book. Any book, he hadn't even really examined the shelves when he had been in her home earlier that night. His wits hadn't left him, though some of his composure may have been compromised- borrowing a book meant it'd need to be returned. A re-swap would mean he'd have to see her again.

And she did not appear to be the kind of girl who wouldn't come back for a book.

Now back in the apartment, she didn't even wait or close the door behind her before kicking off her troublesome shoes and bounding towards her bookcase. Every move she made was joyously unplanned; she still walked on the balls of her feet once barefoot. Rafael took the responsibility of letting the entrance shut, and peered curiously at the walls until finding the light switch. The room lit up and his new friend was studiously running hands along the spines of her books.

"What are you in the mood for?" She asked airily, turning with pure concern painted on her face. Rafael chewed the inside of his cheek- that was a loaded question, but he figured he'd keep it as innocent as she had. He'd probably lose her if he tried to talk about anything other than the book she was damned determined to hand over.

"Anything you love," he suggested, coming up behind her to take a peek for himself. They were alphabetized, he noticed quickly- by author. It took a moment to realize her additional categorization, they were in chronological order: oldest by each author to the left, growing newer and newer as he scanned each set to the right. How long did this take her to sift through initially?

That didn't seem to help her decision process much, so she tapped at her chin. Rafael should have been helping her, he supposed, but he could watch her eyes narrow in intense concentration all night. How exactly did one decide on a book to give over, to someone you hardly knew? She was taking the task very seriously; he felt it would be a misdeed to interrupt.

Apparently she'd come to a conclusion. "I've read this at least five times," Marie shamelessly hopped, and caught the top of a blue book with her index finger. When she fell back to the ground, the book slid onto its edge, and she grunted when it still remained on the shelf. Rafael easily snatched it for her; thank god he had a few inches on her height. Finally, he was useful.

"Don't laugh-" she began warningly, wriggling her eyebrows teasingly at him as she spun. Marie took the book from his hands, and opened to a random page. There were words highlighted, seemingly random exclamation points alongside certain passages, annotations and definitions of words in the margins. Certain phrases had been underlined, some of the pages appeared to have been dog-eared multiple times. It was chaos, a beautiful literary chaos, but she was already blushing when she snapped it shut. He didn't dare tell her so. "I dunno what comes over me, I do that to all of the books I own- I guess I'm selfish," she bit onto her lip while she rambled, and held the novel up for him to take. "I don't really consider that someone else would want to read it, it's awful."

Their hands touched, when she purposefully moved his fingers out of the way so she could point out the title. "Everything is Illuminated," Rafael confirmed upon prompting, but was much more interested in getting in her way more. Maybe she had been trying to show him the name of his newest read, but her bossy manipulation of his hand placement left him wishing she had to do it again. "Jonathan Safran Foer."

"It's really interesting. Like you said about the Vonnegut you let me borrow, technique and stuff;" her shoulders bobbed, and she gathered her own hands to her chest. He wondered if she had cared at all about their slight connect, but she spoke too fast for him to linger on the concern. "It's really beautiful, though; stunning really. I have a few others by him too."

"Thank you," he showed his gratitude sincerely, and her excited grin convinced him to mirror one of his own. "I'll definitely enjoy it, and we'll have to talk about it afterwards..."

"Oh duh-" she fluttered her fingers and began a dance-like walk back towards the entryway. Marie had promised him it would only be a minute, and she didn't want to push her luck too far. "That was crude," her self-chastising was unnecessary, and the wilting look on her face upset him more than the comment. "I mean- I'd love that, hopefully I'll be done with yours by then. I'm sure you read faster than I do, you seem so smart."

"You're really smart too, you know," He couldn't stand letting her talk about herself the way she did, even if it was masked by a compliment for him. "And quite interesting," Rafael still recalled her self-observations from the library. "Even if it wasn't about books, I'd love to see you again."

You'd have thought he lassoed the moon, considering the shocked look on her face. "Really?" Marie asked curiously, genuinely, and he debated grabbing hold of her hands to assure her. There was no need, since she literally jumped when her word fell onto her own ears. She was always so quick to speak, it was refreshing compared to all the secrets and carefully chosen speech usually surrounding him. "I mean, ha!" She gathered her fists in her lap, twiddling her thumbs in embarrassment of her stammering, he'd have called it 'nervous fidgeting' if he was interviewing someone. "I'd like to see you again too; you're a true delight Rafael."

A true delight, eh? He took the hint and glided behind her to the door, waiting for a moment to peek at some of the extra writing in the book she had blessed him with. Her writing was so neat; it was obvious she put thought into every scrolled letter. It'd be his honor to read the story with her words there to guide him- he'd imagine her voice every time he studied them. Rafael stepped out into the hallway, and turned for the final adieus.

"Good night, Rafael," she beat him to it. Her fingers wiggled beneath her chin, and he gave a similar wave.

"Good night, Marie-" She went to close the door, but in an uncharacteristic moment of rudeness, he held a hand out to stop it before the clicks of the knob came. "May I text you? Or would more written words just cloud your thoughts?"

Marie appeared confused, but the concern faded quickly. "What a silly question," she advised simply. He considered, maybe she had a point. Between the books lining her walls and how she dearly adored every collection of phrases that came into her possession, he should have assumed his texts wouldn't prove cumbersome. Maybe he just wanted to talk to her more, even if he didn't want to admit it. "And _if the questions don't make sense_ -"

He laughed, unabashedly interrupting her quotation. The way she absorbed her reading like a sponge, it was lovely. "- _Neither will the answers."_ Rafael nodded, and tried not to look too terribly impressed. Without wasting any more of her time, he began the walk down the hallway.

Perhaps it was because he was again ready to indulge in the book she had let him borrow. or because he was so entranced with the handwritten notes bunched up into the corners- but he hadn't noticed how she watched him stroll towards the stairs.

Once left alone, Marie locked the door thrice, and twisted with a sigh while plucking up the book he had loaned her off the entryway table. There was plenty to do; to prepare for bed and work the next morning. But instead, she meandered dreamily to her loveseat, and plopped down atop the pillow placed purposely near the arm. With intense care, she opened the clean book, and ran a fingertip along a line she particularly enjoyed from the foreword-

_"We met at the end of the blue tunnel that links this world with Heaven..."_


End file.
